“A proper question,” said Christian, “from a slave to her master!”
“Rather, say, a proper question, and of all questions the most proper, from a mistress to her slave! Know you not, that from the hour in which you discovered your ineffable baseness, you have made me mistress of your lot? While you seemed but a demon of vengeance, you commanded terror, and to good purpose; but such a foul fiend as thou hast of late shown thyself—such a very worthless, base trickster of the devil—such a sordid grovelling imp of perdition, can gain nothing but scorn from a soul like mine.”
“Gallantly mouthed,” said Christian, “and with good emphasis.”
“Yes,” answered Zarah, “I can speak—sometimes—I can also be mute; and that no one knows better than thou.”
“Thou art a spoiled child, Zarah, and dost but abuse the indulgence I entertain for your freakish humour,” replied Christian; “thy wits have been disturbed since ever you landed in England, and all for the sake of one who cares for thee no more than for the most worthless object who walks the streets, amongst whom he left you to engage in a brawl for one he loved better.”
“It is no matter,” said Zarah, obviously repressing very bitter emotion; “it signifies not that he loves another better; there is none—no, none—that ever did, or can, love him so well.”
“I pity you, Zarah!” said Christian, with some scorn.
“I deserve your pity,” she replied, “were your pity worth my accepting. Whom have I to thank for my wretchedness but you?—You bred me up in thirst of vengeance, ere I knew that good and evil were anything better than names;—to gain your applause, and to gratify the vanity you had excited, I have for years undergone a penance, from which a thousand would have shrunk.”
“A thousand, Zarah!” answered Christian; “ay, a hundred thousand, and a million to boot; the creature is not on earth, being mere mortal woman, that would have undergone the thirtieth part of thy self-denial.”
“I believe it,” said Zarah, drawing up her slight but elegant figure; “I believe it—I have gone through a trial that few indeed could have sustained. I have renounced the dear intercourse of my kind; compelled my tongue only to utter, like that of a spy, the knowledge which my ear had only collected as a base eavesdropper. This I have done for years—for years—and all for the sake of your private applause—and the hope of vengeance on a woman, who, if she did ill in murdering my father, has been bitterly repaid by nourishing a serpent in her bosom, that had the tooth, but not the deafened ear, of the adder.”